Nightmare
by beckerandjess4eva
Summary: This is quite an angsty fic and only read if you don't mind detailing of the diseased. This fic is the basis of a dream so is quite different to how i  normally write.only John watson and Sherlock holmes as characters, and a creepy man of course. thnx


**This is from a very vivid dream i had, wasn't the most fun one (quite freaky to be honest). But i hope you enjoy it more than i initially did. XD :P I have tried to bulk it out so it makes more sense but everything there is true to my_ lovely_ imagination XD**

John smiled worriedly across at Sherlock, who was tightly wrapped in his coat. Sherlock was purposely striding down the long, dark winding alleyway staring straight ahead. He knew where they were going but John did not. "So, you know where he is and you aren't calling backup?" John asked looking at Sherlock's reaction.

_They should have known... _

Sherlock smiled and spun around to face John, nearly ending up face-to-face. "Absolutely not, we can do this ourselves," Sherlock answered. _How wrong he was. _

John frowned and was about to reply but Sherlock span around to continue walking, his coat billowing behind him. _John could've stopped this. He could've saved them._

After a few minutes they reached an old dilapidated house in the end of an abandoned street, and this was where they were about to go... _they shouldn't have ever gone there..._

John followed Sherlock up the driveway and looked around. There was no-one here, just a row of abandoned houses, so they were all alone with no help on either side. Something felt utterly wrong about this... something... John pulled out his mobile and dialled Lestrade's number, quickly detailing where they were. _Maybe that could prevent it?_

Slowly Sherlock pushed open the door and walked into the darkened house. It smelt strongly of rot and dust and another distinct smell Sherlock knew far too well. The darkened house creaked as they walked into the hallway, Sherlock already walking up the stairs to the bedroom on the top floor, as he knew exactly where to go. _They should've waited; it would cost them everything..._

John walked behind Sherlock freezing as the floor sank slightly where it had rotted away. "Sherlock?" John hissed hurrying up to find Sherlock wherever he was. _He shouldn't have followed. _

The door slowly opened and John stared at what he saw. Sherlock was frozen, _actually_ frozen exactly where he stood. Walking further into the room he saw exactly why. There was a man holding an unconscious woman in his arms. "Let her go!" John demanded seeing the metal being held over her face. Staring at the object, John realised that it was a wide, heavy duty tent stake.

He couldn't hold back the bile fighting its way up his throat as the man brought it down on her face. John was about to run forward but the strong grip on his arm prevented him. He turned to glare at Sherlock. "All is not what it seems John. You have to get out, now," Sherlock whispered. _John should have left when he still could. _

But John turned back to see the deep holes jagged across her pale face. "No-one will leave!" the brutish man yelled brandishing the stake above his head. Sherlock just looped his arm around John and dragged him beside his own body.

Then the light flickered through the small windows as the moon began to be blocked behind the clouds. "John," Sherlock said pulling John beside him.

It only took a few minutes for the light to once more fall into the room but it was enough. They stared, as the deceased woman's body began to darken and grow older and rotten, her pale skin becoming discoloured and the large gouges becoming dark holes showing the glistening black fermented blood. _They should have left while they still could. _

Then came the creaking as the floor began to break apart. Sherlock roughly shoved John, making him fall roughly to the floor as it began to splinter beneath Sherlock. Within seconds he was up and reaching for the friend who was no longer there, as he heard a smash from the below. "Sherlock!" he yelled trying to see him down the collapsed hole.

Slowly John turned to see the man who had just discarded the woman, seeking out more lively prey. The ominous feeling spread across his body and he wildly reached for something... anything. But there was nothing there, he was weaponless and hopeless.

Even as the sirens rang out John knew that this wasn't going to end well. As the tent peg striked down, aiming at his face, he brought his arm up resulting in hearing a sickening sound of metal on bone. John rolled to the side trying to get out of the man's reach. But it was not enough. _It would never be enough_.

Sherlock lay there twisted and broken looking up as he tried pointlessly to stand up or even move his legs in any way. He had to get help; he had to get to John to save him. He **had** to! And that was when he heard it, a sound which would be with him until the day he died... John was screaming.

_They should have never come... Sherlock had been so stupid. Now nothing would ever be the same again..._

**there you go, please review because i was really unsure whether that went as well as planned. **

**This might be a one-off unless people tell me if they want to know whether they live or not.**

** Thank-you XD **

_**reviews are made of muffins, and i really like muffins XD**_


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